Unexpected
by pulpbomb
Summary: OmegaVerse: Sherlock had always presented himself as Beta. Lestrade was therefore very surprised to find an about-to-go-into-Heat Omega Sherlock show up at his crime scene. Sexy times ensue. Sherstrade
1. Chapter 1

'The formula was perfect.' That phrase (wrong!) kept running through Sherlock's head as Lestrade recklessly drove him back to 221B Baker Street. Lestrade wouldn't look at him, focusing on the road ahead, steering wheel clenched in a white-knuckled grip.

Sherlock found himself trembling uncontrollably. He clenched his hands into fists trying to quell the shaking. 'How could this happen?!' He forced his mind away from his treacherous body ('transport, just transport') to determine how he'd ended up here…

Since Uni, Sherlock had been suppressing not only his Heats (unbearable, awful, uncontrollable) but his very Omega biology. The concoction, he had created through very careful trial and error using only himself as the test subject. Once he perfected his solution, he took to injecting himself weekly to ensure he would pass as a Beta and not be subjected to the mindless Heats he's suffered through since he was 16. This method had worked wonderfully for years; most immediately accepted him as a Beta. A few people initially assumed he was an Alpha due to his aggressive, some would say obnoxious, behavior, until they noticed his scent, or more specifically, the lack thereof. This made it so he could focus solely on the Work, that which sustained him.

When Mycroft and Sherlock realized Moriarty's end game, Sherlock took it upon himself to tinker with his suppressant. If he was off running across the globe taking down Moriarty's web, he couldn't very well be giving himself weekly injections. The need to be constantly in motion, the possibility of fleeing without his belongings, made it so he couldn't be possibly be succumbing to a Heat in a strange location most likely surrounded by enemies. He had changed the formula to one that was long-term, with the possible side effect being that it might be permanent.

Whatever the case, it had obviously failed him. Sherlock thought perhaps he'd merely been coming down with a touch of the flu that John told him was going around, keeping the doctor busy at his surgery and unable to join the detective at the latest crime scene. Sherlock ignored the signs his body presented him with until he was greeted by Lestrade upon arrival. When Sherlock approached the older man, he felt his insides clench uncomfortably and a sudden, strange warmth coiled in his gut. He shook it off and moved to walk past the DI when Lestrade's scent enveloped him like a warm breeze and his knees almost buckled. His scent was literally mouthwatering. He smelled like leather and musk and, above all, like he was meant to belong to Sherlock. Lestrade's eyes widened as he reached out to the steady the younger man but once he touched the detective, his nostrils flared and his gaze darkened. Sherlock leaned into the older man, and unconsciously tilted his neck, presenting it in typical Omega behavior, responding to a compatible Alpha before he knew what he was doing.

Suddenly, Sherlock realized what he was feeling. It had been years since he'd had to deal with the signs of an approaching Heat but that was obviously what was happening now. His body was reacting to Lestrade's presence. He'd always been attracted to the older man but had subsumed such desires to focus on his work. He'd created his suppressant to control his biology and no matter how handsome and charming Lestrade was, Sherlock had done his best to keep him at arm's length once he realized the depths of his desire. Over the years he'd noticed Lestrade's fleeting glances and steadfastly ignored them.

But now, Sherlock wanted nothing more than to curl up next to the older man. To wrap himself around the DI and feel Lestrade's warm skin slide against his own. He wanted so badly to be marked and taken by the older man andbe filled in a way he had never been before. Oh of course there were some unsatisfactory adolescent experimentations with Omega toysbefore he determined to not let his biology dictate the course of his life. He knew it would be different with Lestrade. That Lestrade would take care of him, would know what to do, how to make Sherlock's body sing.

The part of Sherlock's mind that was still rational was dismayed by the nature of his thoughts as well as the realization his entrance had moistened immediately while his cock began to stiffen. The DI grabbed Sherlock's arm and pulled him away from the crime scene. "Sherlock, what the bloody hell is going on?" he hissed. "You smell like… But you can't…How is that…? What is…? Fucking hell…!"

If Sherlock had been his normal self, he would have mocked Lestrade's sudden inability to form complete sentences. As it was, all he knew was that he wanted to suck the DI's tongue into his mouth and drown in the sensation of the other man's scent, taste, and touch. Lubrication began leaking down his upper thighs.

Lestrade inhaled sharply, shook his head once, and said brusquely, "Come with me, explain on the way. I'm taking you back to your flat."

Sherlock practically melted into the older man. "Lestrade," he said thickly, "this can't be happening. My suppressant can't fail. I perfected the formula."

The DI snorted, "Obviously not", while bodily forcing Sherlock into his cruiser. Sherlock curled up into a ball and did his best to ignore his body's demands, immediately retreating into his mind.

Lestrade was having trouble concentrating on the road. 'Sherlock is an Omega!' kept running though his mind on an endless loop. He smelled amazing, like spice and smoke and home. It was all Greg could do to keep driving to Baker Street and not pull over and launch himself at Sherlock. He'd always fancied Sherlock - 'just look at the man!' - and cared for him deeply ever since he'd found Sherlock during a routine drugs bust. Something about the rail thin young man with the blazing, intelligent eyes struck a chord deep in Greg. He took it upon himself to help Sherlock get clean, managed to get him access to cases at the Yard and never turned his back on him, even when he relapsed. Lestrade was so proud of the five years Sherlock had been clean. Well, seven years now. Lestrade shook his head, Sherlock "died" and was gone for two years. Two horrible years. He thought he failed the younger man. That arresting him was the final straw that drove Sherlock to kill himself. Those two years felt like an eternity.

Lestrade had been beyond thrilled when Sherlock was 'resurrected' like Lazarus and came back into his life. It seemed things were like they were before Moriarty, before Sherlock's fall. They fell back into the easy companionship and working relationship they had enjoyed for years, working alongside each other comfortably. At times John was there as well, when the doctor wasn't busy with his new wife, enjoying a simple Beta life together. He always liked the former military man and the steadying influence John has on Sherlock.

Lestrade was attracted to everything about Sherlock but he knew deep down that Sherlock, as a Beta, could never take his Alpha knot. Never mind that Sherlock seemed to shun most personal relationships and had never had a romantic entanglement as far as the DI knew. Lestrade valued Sherlock too much in too many ways to risk him shunning Greg if his feelings were known. So he let the status be quo. He worked with Sherlock and welcomed him back with open arms when he returned from the dead.

'Black is white, up is down', Lestrade thought, a tad hysterically, as Sherlock's amazing scent filled his nose. The detective wasn't a Beta, had **never been** a Beta. How was such a thing even possible? He smelled so clearly like Omega now but before he'd always presented as Beta. Sherlock always smelled lovely to Greg but never like this. Sherlock hadn't been very clear when Lestrade dragged him away from the crime scene smelling like an Omega about to go into Heat. Something about his suppressant failing, which the consulting detective kept repeating was impossible. Lestrade hustled him into his car, opening the windows despite the winter chill and headed to Baker Street at a breakneck pace.

He chanced a peek at his passenger seat. Sherlock was huddled against the window, visibly trembling and throwing off waves upon waves of delicious pheromones that screamed at Lestrade's primal instincts. It was his concern for his friend that managed to pierce the haze of lust and allowed Greg to focus on the road and delivering the detective to his home unharmed. 'I will control myself', he thought fiercely. He would take Sherlock home and leave him untouched. Lestrade forced his mind to ignore his baser urges. His instincts urged him to take the younger man, to mark him as his, to fill him with his Alpha cock and knot him as he screamed Greg's name. His cock strained against his trousers. He shifted uncomfortably and Sherlock moaned softly.

It was a miracle they made it to Baker Street in one piece. What happened next was either destiny or a cosmic joke.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock stumbled as Lestrade manhandled him into his flat. His body felt overly warm and his clothes were starting to itch. Lestrade spoke and Sherlock struggled to focus on what he was saying.

"… You need to stay in here and lock yourself in, Sherlock. Your Heat will attract unbonded Alphas if you don't." Lestrade squinted at the detective as he huddled on the sofa with his large coat wrapped around him like a protective cocoon. "Sherlock, are you listening?"

Sherlock glanced at Lestrade before averting his gaze as he felt another overwhelming swell of attraction for the silver haired DI. "Yes, yes, Lestrade. Fine," he muttered.

Lestrade flushed uncomfortably and shifted on his feet. Sherlock didn't look at him but snapped, "What, Lestrade? Just say whatever you're thinking, I hear you from here."

The older man cleared his throat. "Um, it's obvious your Heat will be starting soon. You need to um keep yourself occupied when it does."

Sherlock stiffened and glared at Lestrade. "Keep myself occupied?" He repeated, disdainfully. "You mean stuff myself with my fingers and rut until my Heat ends? I remember. It's been a long time but you don't forget something like that."

Lestrade blushed to the roots of his hair at the younger man's words. "Um, yeah, fingers probably won't cut it. Don't you have any … um… Omega toys? You'll need, er, more than just fingers in a full Heat." Sherlock was the one to blush now and looked steadfastly out the window.

"You do have toys, right, Sherlock? You must have something for when your Heat comes." The older man sounded concerned.

Sherlock glanced at him before looking away again. "I haven't had a Heat in over a decade. I have nothing. I haven't needed anything." He shrank into his coat and pulled his knees up to his chest.

"Jesus Christ on a cracker! Sherlock, you have to have something. Your Heat will start soon." Lestrade took a tentative step closer to the sofa where the consulting detective perched. "Listen, back before I was married and still trying to pull Omegas, I had a trick. I could smell when their next Heat would approach. I was usually right on the money."

Sherlock looked up sharply, intrigued despite himself. If he had more data, perhaps he could better manage his Heat. "Really? How?"

Lestrade shrugged and shuffled a bit closer. "I'm not sure really, it's just something I've always been able to do. I could do that for you if you want. Just sniff your neck. Nothing else, I swear. I'm sure this is, um, an uncomfortable situation."

Sherlock cocked his head to the side and looked at the older man. Part of him wanted nothing more than for Lestrade to bury is face in his neck and inhale him. He wanted him to mark him, to claim him as his mate. Sherlock mentally shook himself. 'No! Focus.' The rational part, that was rapidly dwindling felt what Lestrade was suggesting was a good idea. It would be helpful to know how much time he had until he was a mindless animal completely bound to his body's desires.

The detective slowly unfurled his long legs and stood up from the sofa. He moved his collar aside and nodded once at Lestrade. The DI took in a shaky breath and stepped into Sherlock's personal space. The younger man shuddered as his delicious Alpha scent filled his senses, threatening to overwhelm and undo him. He stiffened his back and slightly tilted his head, not truly presenting but allowing the Alpha space to scent him.

Lestrade clenched his hands into fists at his side and leaned into the taller man. As his nose touched the sensitive skin of the Omega's neck, Sherlock's knees threatened to buckle. He remained standing through sheer force of will but it felt amazing. His head filled with images of Lestrade above him in bed, his cock filling him and fucking him into the mattress, biting his neck and marking him as the Alpha's mate.

Quickly, Lestrade deeply scented the younger man, then stepped away. It was all Sherlock could do not to whimper at the loss of contact. The DI looked shaken and his eyes were dark with lust. He backed away, out of Sherlock's personal space. "You," his throat caught and he had to clear his throat to get the words out. "Er, you should have a couple of hours. You still smell like you're in the early stages." He shifted his legs in what appeared to be an attempt to ease pressure in his trousers. The detective could sympathize.

Sherlock, his face flushed and his pupils blown wide, shook himself and nodded. "Excellent, I can run out and get some toys before it starts."

"What?! Are you mad? No, you bloody well can't! You go out there like this and you'll be mounted by the first unbonded Alpha that you come across! It's too dangerous, Sherlock! Can't, I dunno, Mycroft send you over some toys? He must know you're an Omega." Lestrade was dumbfounded by the younger man's ignorance.

Sherlock flushed deeply and practically snarled, "I am not asking Mycroft for help with this matter! If you think leaving is unadvisable I will simply make do."

A strange look flashed across the DI's face. The younger man noticed it immediately, more aware and attuned to the other man than usual.

"What?" Sherlock bit out.

"I may have something that will help you." Lestrade refused to meet the younger man's gaze. "My ex was an Omega and we sometimes, um, played with toys during her Heats."

Sherlock cut him off, "If you think I'm 'playing' with your ex-wife's old toys you are even more feeble-minded than I feared."

Lestrade threw up his hands, "No! God, no! Yuck. I had bought some new toys shortly before she… well, before she left me for good. They aren't exactly the sort of thing you can return so I just shoved them in the back of the wardrobe. I forgot they were even there until just now. They are in still in the packaging. Untouched. I just thought that they might help. You will need something Sherlock, I swear it."

Sherlock managed to look even more uncomfortable than he had during the course of this surreal conversation. 'He's right. I hate that he's right. Damn my traitorous body!' Just the idea of something filling him made his body flush even warmer than it had been and he could feel himself creating more lubrication. He turned away from the older man and nodded. "Thank you Lestrade," he said in a low voice. "I accept your kind offer."

Lestrade swallowed a laugh at the Omega's formality while discussing sex toys. "Alright, stay here, lock the door behind me. I'll be back in an hour, give you the toys and clear out."

Sherlock nodded again as he heard, and more disturbingly, felt the Alpha leave the flat.


	3. Chapter 3

Lestrade headed back to Baker Street after collecting the toys and some food for Sherlock from his flat. He knew Sherlock barely had anything edible at his place on a regular day and with his Heat approaching he needed to be well-stocked.

Greg was attempting to focus on the immediate task of driving and not what he was bringing to the newly revealed Omega or what had transpired before he left the detective's flat. Unbidden, the provocative scent of the ripe Omega came to mind. He recalled how difficult it had been to take a quick scent of Sherlock and not pin him to the nearest surface and ravish him. The younger man's scent had been like a live wire, shocking his system, directing blood to his cock, making it throb uncomfortably. Somehow, the Alpha had managed to maintain self-control and had left as soon as possible after filling his senses with Sherlock's unbelievable scent to predict his oncoming Heat.

Upon arriving back at Baker Street and entering the flat, dropping the bag by the door, Greg was bombarded with Sherlock's scent. It was far stronger than before. He smelled ripe, fertile and ready to be filled by an Alpha. Lestrade bit back a growl at the thought of another Alpha touching his Sherlock. He was already thinking of him as his Omega. This was, as John would say, not good. How long had he been gone? He shook his head to try to clear the haze of lust, adjusting his trousers around his burgeoning erection.

Sherlock wasn't in the sitting room or kitchen. His smell led Lestrade though the flat to the detective's closed bedroom door. The Omega's luscious scent was overwhelming here and Greg felt his cock take immediate interest, hardening further. He swallowed thickly and the Alpha groaned deep in his throat.

In response to his groan, Lestrade heard a whimper float through the closed door. He knocked on it. "Are you alright in there? Sherlock?"

Another faint sound, "Lestrade," Sherlock's voice was barely audible. "Oh God, please," the detective moaned.

Lestrade threw the door open to enter and immediately froze in the doorway. His startled eyes took in the scene before him.

There on his bed, Sherlock lay nude, one hand on his cock, the other behind him, moving frantically. The DI's imagination immediately provided the enticing visual of the Omega's fingers pistoning into his leaking hole. His felt the blood throb through his own cock in response.

"Thank God, Lestrade. I need you. I can't… It's too much… I'm so empty... It hurts." Sherlock broke off with a choked moan. He curled into a ball on his side. "Please," he gazed directly at the Alpha a few feet away. The look in Sherlock's eyes shook Lestrade. He saw unrestrained need and lust along with a hint of fear. The Alpha had never seen that look in the detective's eyes before. Sherlock rarely showed fear no matter the circumstances.

"Your heat started? Already? Bloody Hell, I'm never that wrong!" Lestrade gripped the wooden doorjamb to keep from joining the Omega writhing on the bed. He attempted and failed to tear his eyes away from the erotic sight before him

Sherlock managed to give him a withering look, rolling his eyes. "Yes." His hands never stopped moving. "Ungh. Because that is the important takeaway from this situation, Lestrade: You being wrong. You're always wrong…" He broke off, panting. "Gah. Get over here and help me, you fool. I want you. I need… I need you."

Well if that wasn't both the most and least Sherlockian things he'd ever heard the detective say. Lestrade felt his body leaning into the room, deeply inhaling the amazing scent that Sherlock was throwing off.

"No, Sherlock, you don't want me. You don't need me. You never have. The toys will help you through this." Lestrade felt his resolve crumbling, but he was determined to do right by his friend. "I won't take advantage of you like this. It's wrong."

He unclenched his hands from the doorjamb, making to get the Omega toys for Sherlock. He never made it out to the sitting room.

Before Greg could fully turn to move down the hall, a strong hand clamped down on his wrist. Amazingly, he could feel the heat of it through his suit coat. He looked up to see Sherlock looming over him. A sheen of sweat covered his face and chest. Lestrade refused to look further down to see the taller man's cock so tantalizingly close. The smell of Omega Heat wrapped itself around the Alpha like a warm blanket. He looked into Sherlock's eyes, which were surprisingly clear and laser focused on his own.

"Sod the toys! I need you, Greg. And I want you, desperately. No, let me finish." He said, when the older man opened his mouth to interrupt. "I have always wanted you, I just never let myself think like that, too focused on the work. Ignoring the demands of my body. I can't do that now, obviously. Stop being so bloody noble and be the Alpha I need! I want you. Not a toy. You. Your knot. No one else's."

Sherlock shuddered as he finished speaking and seemed to sag against Lestrade who brought his hands up to catch the taller man.

The combination of that little speech and his arms full of pliant, willing Omega was more than Lestrade could resist. 'I'm going to Hell,' he thought as he wrapped his arms and brought Sherlock flush against his body. He brought one hand up to grasp the back of the other man's head, fingers sliding through unruly curls, and fused his mouth to Sherlock's. The Omega whimpered into his mouth and Lestrade instinctively tightened his grip, deepening the kiss, his tongue invading Sherlock's mouth and plundering its depths.


	4. Chapter 4

The Alpha broke away reluctantly, scooped Sherlock up before he could protest, and walked him the few steps to the bed, depositing him gently. Sherlock tried to pull him down with him. Lestrade batted away his hands. "Alright, then. This will be far more pleasant if you let me get undressed." Sherlock whined, another first (this day was turning out to be full of them), but gave up the attempt to drag the Alpha on top of him.

Lestrade quickly stripped and, glancing around, walked to the chair in the corner of the room and lay his clothes atop it. He heard a full throated moan behind him and turned to see that Sherlock had shoved three fingers up his weeping arse once more.

His eyes went wide as he grinned and moved back to the bed. Greg knelt next to Sherlock and gently tugged the his hand away from his arse, ignoring the unhappy sounds coming from the Omega.

Lestrade sat on the bed next to Sherlock and took a deep, steadying breath. He ran his hand up and down the smooth lines of the Omega's back, stopping just above his arse. The detective shuddered and lifted his hips encouraging the Alpha to continue his journey south. Greg knew Sherlock was in the throes of his Heat so he wouldn't be able to take his time as he'd have liked. He wanted to take the younger man apart piece by piece: kissing, touching and licking every inch of his lithe body until Sherlock begged him for release.

'Just a quick taste.' Lestrade thought before leaning down and squeezing Sherlock's lush arse cheeks, spreading them apart and revealing his weeping hole. Sherlock whimpered and shifted his hips attempting to get friction on his aching cock by rubbing against the bed. The Alpha leaned down and buried his face in the Omega's arse, inhaling deeply. 'Heaven,' he thought, before licking a broad stripe along the crack of Sherlock's arse, merely teasing his entrance. "Bloody Hell, Sherlock, you taste amazing," the Alpha whispered.

Greg stuck his tongue out and lightly worked it around Sherlock's fluttering pucker, barely applying any pressure. Sherlock inhaled sharply and pressed himself backwards against the older man's face. Lestrade chucked darkly and stiffened his tongue, probing the slick entrance and tasting the Omega's delicious juices. After a few moments, he forced himself to pull away. "I could do that for hours; just eat your arse until you come from that alone." Sherlock's entire body shuddered with pleasure at the Alpha's words.

"Don't worry, sunshine. I won't do that to you now. I know what you need and, fuck, I am going to give it to you. You won't be able to stand for a week after your Heat is done when I'm through with you." The Alpha practically growled the words, leaning down for another quick taste of younger man's leaking hole.

Sherlock whispered, "Yes, please, now, God, you're killing me. Fuck me, Greg. Please."

Lestrade didn't think his cock could get any harder but it seemed to swell every time the other man begged him. He lay on the bed and pulled the Omega atop him.

Sherlock moaned, wantonly, as Greg pulled their bodies flush for the first time; their naked flesh sliding, creating overwhelming sensations. 'Finally,' he thought. He immediately began gently grinding his groin against the older man's. It felt amazing but still wasn't enough. His skin was on fire and he still felt so desperately empty. He licked his way into the Alpha's mouth, their tongues frantically tangling. The detective wrapped his long limbs around the other man and almost frantically ran his nails up and down Greg's back to grip his arse

Lestrade growled deep in his chest at the feel of Sherlock's nails scoring his skin and swiftly rolled them so he was hovering over the Omega. He chased Sherlock's tongue back into his mouth and explored the moist heat while reaching his hand down to tease the other man's entrance with his fingers. Sherlock bucked against him, trying to get friction on his cock while simultaneously trying to impale himself on Greg's fingers.

The Alpha obliged, teasing his finger around the hot, fluttering hole before sliding two fingers inside easily. Sherlock threw his head back and gave a full-body shudder, rocking his hips onto the older man's fingers.

"More, please, Lestrade. Christ, fuck me! I need your cock inside me. Nngh." Sherlock practically begged.

Sherlock couldn't believe how different it felt to have another man's fingers inside of him, sliding in and out of his slick heat slowly, teasingly. He'd been fingering himself before Lestrade returned and that felt good but nothing compared to this sensation. If he was honest with himself, the fact that it was Greg made it exponentially hotter and more intense. 'Finally,' the detective thought, 'why was I denying myself this all those years?' He rolled his hips, bringing the Alpha's fingers deeper inside him, and when they brushed against his prostrate and it felt like his entire body had been struck by lightning. "Holy fuck, Greg! Jesus. Stop bloody teasing and fuck me, I can't stand it anymore!"

Lestrade's head clouded with the words tumbling from the younger man's mouth. He was overwhelmed by the other man's amazing scent surrounding him. He mentally shook himself. While his primal instinct was to spread the Omega open and impale him on his cock, he knew Sherlock hadn't had a Heat in years. While the Omega's body was biologically meant for an Alpha's large cock and knot, Greg wanted to make sure Sherlock was as open and loose as possible before he entered the detective. Sherlock, it seemed, was determined to make exercising this self control as difficult as possible, wriggling his body like a snake underneath Lestrade's while peppering his face, neck and chest with kisses, licks and bites.

The Alpha maintained his control, sweat popping out all over his body as he refrained from simply pounding into the Omega beneath him. He added a third finger, feeling the stretched opening clamp around his fingers, making sure to graze the younger man's prostate on every thrust. He leaned down to nuzzle Sherlock's neck, nosing at the other man's scent gland and gently nibbling on it. Sherlock gasped and tilting his neck to give Lestrade better access and brought one hand up to grasp the back of the DI's head, clutching him tight, pressing Lestrade's mouth against his neck.

'Enough prep, I can't wait anymore either,' Greg thought. He withdrew his fingers from the slick heat of Sherlock's entrance. The younger man whimpered at the loss.

"Hush now, I've got you." The Alpha soothed. He lined his thick cock against the Omega's wet, fluttering hole and pushed the tip of his cockhead inside.

Sherlock arched off the bed beneath him and keened loudly. "Yes, God, yes, please. Fuck me, Greg, fuck me."

Lestrade pressed further inside the velvet heat of the Omega and groaned as he sheathed himself fully, his balls pressed against the plush globes of Sherlock's arse.


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock exhaled lustily as he felt Greg slide into him, throwing his head back and moaning with contentment. His inner muscles contracted around the large cock deep inside him.

'Finally,' he thought, shifting his hips restlessly to encourage the other man to move. It felt fantastic to be stretched by the Alpha's cock but he needed more. He needed to be fucked and hard; to feel Greg's knot swell up inside Sherlock and his come filling him while the older man remained firmly inside his arse.

It was as though there was an unspoken connection between them; as if he'd spoken aloud and the Alpha heard him, Greg immediately began to move fast and hard. Sherlock felt shocks of pleasure throughout his body, centering on where the two men were connected. He let loose a string of desperate moans and orgasmed the first time Greg's cock brushed his prostate.

Above him, the older man moaned and shuddered as Sherlock's muscles clenched around him during the Omega's first release. The Alpha never ceased snapping his hips forward, the sound of their skin slapping together filling the room. Sherlock's mind went blissfully quiet, nothing in the world existed for him but the Alpha above him, filling him. All was silent and there was nothing but pleasure.

Greg's mind was a cloud of lust and need and instinct. Nothing had ever felt as good as Sherlock's glorious slick heat enveloping his length. He wanted to stay where he was forever, rutting and knotting the Omega beneath him until he was nothing but a pleading, writhing mess.

Sherlock's first orgasm caused his inner walls to clench and ripple around the Alpha's thick cock. Greg's eyes rolled up in his head and he drove into the Omega with even more forceful thrusts. He grabbed the younger man's legs and placed them over his shoulders, the angle shifting and allowing him to plow even deeper into the slick heat that was Sherlock and watch him unravel.

He heard the detective unleash a string of desperate moans as Greg continued to drive into him mercilessly. Through a haze of lust, he watched Sherlock raise his arms above his head to brace himself against the headboard, allowing the Alpha to increase the intensity of his thrusts.

The Omega arched his back, rocking his hips to meet the other man's motions, the room filling with the obscene sounds of Greg's cock sliding in and out of Sherlock's amazing, wet heat.

'Knot him, mate him, breed him.' These primal thoughts kept running through the Greg's head in a constant loop. Part of him knew that wasn't what was happening here, that Sherlock wanted his knot but not to mate or breed but Alpha was having trouble caring.

After a few moments, Greg felt a warmth coiling low in his back, his balls drawing up, preparing to release his sperm in a gush as he came. He shifted his hips slightly, angling to hit Sherlock's prostate with every thrust, determined the Omega would reach his peak again before he allowed himself to come. Suddenly, Sherlock keened loudly, removing his hands from the headboard to reach around and grab the firm globes of Greg's ass. His fingers clenched reflexively as his inner walls fluttered around the swelling knot on the Alpha's cock. The younger man's orgasm seemed to be wrenched from him, resulting in undulating waves of pleasure from the base of Greg's length where his knot swelled locking them together to the tip of his cock.

"Yes, give me your knot. Bite me, Greg. Make me yours. I want you to, please. I need to feel your teeth marking my skin." Sherlock gasped out, in between incoherent moans of pleasure. The Omega tilted his neck, officially presenting it for the Alpha to sink his teeth into, to mark them as mates and Bond them together.

Greg grunted, his instincts warring with what was left of his rational mind. His knot swelled to capacity and he lowered his mouth to the apex of Sherlock's neck and shoulder. He grazed his teeth along the other man's scent gland and growled when he felt the Omega shudder at the contact. The Alpha's orgasm hit him then, releasing wave after wave of his hot come inside the Omega's welcoming passage. Greg reared his head back, shifting his upper body and sank his teeth into his own forearm, breaking the skin.

Sherlock orgasmed again as he felt the Alpha's release pulsing deep inside him. A few seconds, 'or was it minutes?', later, he opened his eyes when he felt Greg shift to roll onto his side, pulling the Omega with him, the older man's knot seated firmly, a fixed point connecting them until it subsided. Sherlock gave a shuddering sigh and rested his hands around Greg's arms where they rested on the detective's chest.

After laying therefor some time, limp and sated, Sherlock realized his hand was warm and wet. He wearily raised it to his face and frowned when he saw there was blood on his palm. Looking down, he saw the imprint of a bite mark on the other man's arm, bleeding lightly. As the fog of lust temporarily faded, his mind cleared and he realized, somewhat belatedly, that Greg hadn't bitten him, creating a Bond mark.

'Oh God, I begged him to Bond with me and he obviously didn't want to. What is **wrong** with me?' He felt a rising panic, caused by his innate desire to bond with Greg and the realization that what he thought was mutual attraction was merely one-sided. Greg didn't want him. He slept with him to help him deal with the onset of his heat but wanted nothing more from the consulting detective. The Omega felt sick to his stomach and thoroughly rejected.

'You didn't bite me," Sherlock said, hollowly. If he weren't exhausted and they weren't still connected by the Alpha's slowly deflating knot, he'd have left the room - left the flat, left the city - to avoid the humiliating conversation about to occur.

"I'm sorry I did this to you, Lestrade. Forcing myself on you when you clearly didn't want it. When," he cleared his throat, uncomfortably, "your knot subsides, you can go. I can cope with the remainder of my Heat alone. I'm sure the toys you brought will be sufficient."

Greg squeezed his arms tighter around Sherlock as he felt the tension in the younger man's frame. He wanted to laugh at how wrong the Omega had read what had just occurred between them. He actually thought Greg didn't want him? Hadn't been lusting after him for years? Unbelievable. He stroked his hand up and down the younger man's side in what he hoped was a soothing manner. When he felt he could speak without betraying his emotions, he took a deep breath.

"You daft fool." Sherlock froze and struggled to pull away from the Alpha. Greg tightened his embrace. "No, don't be like that. Listen to me. You honestly think you could force me to do anything? Sherlock, my luscious Omega, I did this," he gestured to their still connected lower halves, "because I wanted to. I've wanted you for ages. How can you not know that, with that big brain of yours? You're supposed to be the genius here. It was all I could not to throw you down on the pavement earlier when you strolled up to my crime scene, smelling like one of my wet dreams." Greg smiled as he saw the color rise on the younger man's cheeks and nuzzled his neck gently.

He pulled back and continued.

"I didn't mark you because you asked me to while in the throes of your first Heat in years. Heat confuses both Omegas and Alphas, emotions are heightened. I didn't want to force you into something you didn't want; what you had only asked for when compromised by your emotions and hormones. If I thought that was something you genuinely wanted, I would've Bonded with you as soon as I slid inside of your amazing body." It was Greg's turn to blush and he buried his face in the nape of the Omega's neck, breathing deeply.

"When I said it, I meant it." Sherlock whispered.

Greg kissed the back of the younger man's neck, nipping lightly, smiling at the full body shiver it caused. "Maybe this is something that should be tabled until your Heat is over and we both have clear heads. I'd love to talk about this more," The Alpha broke off, yawning widely. "But right now I really need to sleep. You might want to do the same, sunshine, we don't have that long before the next round. Your Heat could last a whole week since it's been so long for you. We need to rest and then get something to eat and drink."

"Alright, Greg. You're right." Sherlock relaxed not the older man's embrace.

Greg lifted his head, a smirk on his face, and asked, "Can I get that in writing? Sherlock Holmes admitting I'm right?"

Sherlock snorted, rolling his eyes, "Shut up and go to sleep, Greg."

They both settled down and were asleep in seconds.


	6. Epilogue

"So, you and Lestrade, eh? I didn't expect that." John Watson's voice came through the speaker of Sherlock's mobile. "Of course, I also didn't expect you to call me up in the middle of the night to tell me you are actually an Omega and that Lestrade was with you during your Heat, which apparently happened last week. It's quitea lot to take in."

Sherlock shrugged, "Yes, well, as we've established, you're an idiot, John." He paced the length of the sitting room of his flat, restlessly.

"Right," John replied, drily. "Thanks for that. Any other reason for this call, besides interrupting my sleep and insulting my average intelligence?"

"Above average, John, I don't acquaint myself with any old goldfish." Sherlock flopped into his armchair, wincing slightly. Greg had not been wrong about his arse being sore. It was a delicious kind of pain; his body forcing him to recall the various ways Greg had taken him apart and brought him to peaks of ecstasy over and over.

"Goldfish?" John echoed, snapping Sherlock from his reverie. 'What was John talking about? Ah yes.'

"Never mind, something Mycroft said once. Anyway, I called you because Ineedyouradvice." He ran the words together to get to the point as painlessly as possible.

Of course, John seems to have another plan in mind.

"Oh, ho, my advice, really?! What could I, a mere goldfish as you say, possibly advise the great Sherlock Holmes about?" Sherlock rolled his eyes. Heaven for**bid** John **make** this easy for him.

Sherlock coughed. "Right, well, like I said, Greg and I -"

John cut him off with a chortle. "He's Greg now, is he? Know his name now, do you? I would hope you would, considering. Look at you, you're quite the smitten kitten."

"Yes, thank you John, for reminding me why I so rarely seek another's input on matters regarding my life. Love to Mary." Sherlock quickly pulled the phone away from his ear and made to thumb the disconnect button when he heard John shouting through the small speaker. He raised the phone back to his head.

"- I swear if that bloody pillock hangs up on me before I can apologize, I will punch him right in the ovaries. Which I now know he has, thank you very much, **'**Mister I Lie to My Friends on a Regular Basis about Extremely Important Things**'**!" John blustered.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and interjected, **"**Well, I must say your apology is going swimmingly, John. Really, what with the insults and the character assassination."

John spoke up, "Sherlock, listen, I'm sorry. That was rude of me. Seriously, how can I help you?"

Sherlock took a deep breath.

"Yes." He paused.

Best to just get it out there, like ripping a plaster off.

"I may have asked Greg to Bond with me at one point during my Heat and I want to ask him again now that both our minds are free of hormone induced stupor."

He closed his eyes. Now it was out in the open. He told John, now if he could just figure out how to talk about Bonding with Greg, the one he actually wanted to Bond with, that would be lovely.

It had been a week since Sherlock's Heat ended. He and Greg had parted amicably, if you can call the Alpha pressing the younger man against the door and giving him a thorough snogging merely "amicable." Both men had been busy in the interval, Lestrade at the Yard while Sherlock caught up with a backlog of emails and posts to his website. They'd stayed in fairly constant communication via text, but those messages had been innocuous. Merely one checking in with the other. No mention of the conversation Greg had wisely suggested they put off until clearer heads prevailed. Sherlock had not wavered in his conviction that he wished to Bond with the older man but could not bring himself to mention something so monumental in a text.

"… and you're not even listening to me, are you? Probably off in your mind palace. For the love of God," John's voice broke through the detective's musings and he started, sitting up straight in his chair.

"Er, sorry, yes, I'm here. You were saying?" Sherlock focused on the unbelievably awkward conversation he was having with his best friend. His Conductor of Light. John would help him figure out what to say and how best to say it. John always set him right.

"I was saying, you should just invite him over and talk about it. Obsessing over how the conversation will go won't make broaching the topic any easier. What did he say before?" John asked.

Sherlock quickly gave him the PG rated version of his heat and his and Lestrade's conversations regarding Bonding. While part of him would have delighted in making John as uncomfortable as possible with the explicit details of his Heat, the larger part of him wanted to keep it private, something that belonged to him and Greg alone. It was special and it was theirs.

John was quiet for a brief moment, absorbing what Sherlock told him. "Right then. I'm sure Lestrade's feelings haven't changed. He told you he wanted to Bond with you. He wouldn't lie to you, especially during a Heat. Medical journals have suggested that both Alphas and Omegas tend to be brutally honest during a Heat regarding how they feel or what they want. They may not normally want to be so open with their emotions but with the hormones surging their mental walls tend to crumble."

Sherlock absorbed this. "Thank you John, you have been most helpful. I'll contact Greg at once."

"Great! Let me know how it goes. Not you **k**now, the specifics**,** just um**,** generally." John sounded a bit uncomfortable.

Sherlock chucked drily, "I will. Love to Mary." He hung up the phone before John could respond.

He immediately opened his text messages and composed a text for Lestrade. He clicked send and sighed.

**Come to Baker Street for dinner. We'll get takeaway and talk. - SH**

All he could do was wait.

It turned out he didn't have to wait long. Five minutes after he sent the text, he received a message from Lestrade.

**I'll be there with bells on, my luscious Omega. ;-) - L**

**Don't call me that. - SH**

**Try and stop me. :-) - L**

**Stop winking at me, it's ridiculous. - SH**

**That's my luscious Omega. I'll see you at 8. xx - L**

***sigh* - SH**

Sherlock couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. Things were going to be alright. He couldn't wait to see his Alpha.

_One Year Later_

Lestrade shuddered as his orgasm ripped through him, his Omega clenching around him, milking his knot. He pressed a kiss to the Bond mark on Sherlock's skin and rolled over, keeping them pressed together as his knot connected them.

Sherlock snuggled against his Alpha and sighed with contentment. "I love you, Greg."

Greg nuzzled the nape of Sherlock's neck and hummed in response. He pressed a series of kisses on the younger man's glistening skin. "I know. I love you too…"

Sherlock was drifting off to sleep when he heard Greg speak.

"… My luscious Omega."

Sherlock smiled and hugged his 'Big, Strong Alpha' closer. He'd never tell Greg he called him that in his head or that he loved the ridiculous endearments the older man peppered into his speech when they were alone.

He'd never been happier.

The two men soon fell asleep, wrapped in a loving embrace.


End file.
